


just one last time

by lilabut



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, One Shot, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 09:06:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11665995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilabut/pseuds/lilabut
Summary: Carol and Daryl are no longer together. But neither of them can truly let go.





	just one last time

**Author's Note:**

> written for the 2017 nine lives smutfest challenge

It's quiet out here, the sound of people talking and laughing just a fading buzz. The wrap-around porch is not in the most pristine condition here on the side of the house, the floorboards weathered and no signs of the flowers that decorate the front porch. But it's a place of solitude, facing the side of the neighbor's shed and sheltered from the street by large bushes that have outgrown their welcome over the years.

 

Carol sighs, learning against the side of the house.

 

A light breeze flutters through the trees, leafs rustling, and she shivers. The dress she wears offers no warmth, and she wonders why she chose it in the first place. It's just Rick's birthday party – she's not trying to impress anyone.

 

(but she knew daryl would be here, even without lori confirming it. knew this used to be his favorite dress, pale blue with a fluttering hemline and thin straps he used to trail with his fingertips.)

 

She pushes those thoughts away. It's too damn cold to be wearing it and the glass of wine she had is not nearly enough to warm her from the inside.

 

The creaking of the floorboards announces someone's arrival, and her chest tightens when she sees Daryl walking towards her, face hidden in the shadows with nothing but the moon to shed some light, a bottle of beer in his hand.

 

_Thought ya'd gone home already._ He sounds somber but non-chalant. Like all their conversations are these days. He settles in next to her, leaving a decent foot of space between them. Broad shoulders pressing into the wall.

 

Carol turns away, stares ahead at the shed, watching a few moths dancing in the lamp that's seen better days. _It's a bit crowded in there,_ she explains. It's not a lie – it had felt suffocating in there. But it always does when he's around. Always.

 

They're trying. Both of them unwilling to cast away the friendship they always shared, eager to not make things uncomfortable for the friends they share – desperate to make things easy for her little girl. _Their_ little girl. She's been his, always, in her eyes. And she hopes in his eyes, too.

 

They're trying, but it hurts more and more every day.

 

It doesn't matter anymore why he left. What made him leave. It's been almost a year and she doesn’t care about it anymore. Even if he offered to tell, she wouldn't want to hear it. Whatever anger she felt for being kept in the dark has long faded, and all that's left in its wake is the emptiness she feels without him around.

 

Life goes on, it does. But it doesn't change the fact that she wishes so much that it would continue with him by her side.

 

_Yeah, don't even know half these people,_ Daryl says, shaking his head and taking a sip of his beer. They're both silent then, cloaked in the darkness and silence of the night. It's a heavy silence, one that starts to grow unbearable with every second that passes.

 

Silence between them used to be easy. But now it's filled with all the questions she has asked him over the past year and all the answers he never gave.

 

She doesn't know what to say to him anymore. Considers asking him to pick up Sophia this weekend instead of the next because she and Lori made plans to catch a movie. She meant to call him about that, but she might as well do that now and use it as an excuse to end the awkward silence.

 

But just as she's about to ask him, he speaks up. _Ya cold,_ he points out, nodding down at her arms where her skin is tight with goosebumps.

 

Carol doesn't miss the way his gaze lingers, the way he follows the length of her arms up to her shoulders, eyes tracing the way her dress dips low enough to reveal a glimpse of her breasts. His throat bops as he swallows, and suddenly the last thing Carol feels is cold.

 

Almost subconsciously, she leans in a little closer to him, all too aware of the warmth radiating from him and the almost magnetic pull she has always felt in his presence. But she shouldn't even consider any of this. That's not what they are to each other anymore.

 

Figuring out just _what_ they are, though, that's a challenge she isn't sure either of them are ready for.

 

In an effort to distract herself, she reaches for his beer bottle. He doesn't resist when she takes it from him, the glass cool against her lips when she takes a sip. It's bitter and she hates the taste, always has, but still she takes another and another, feeling it warm her throat before she hands it back to him.

 

He reaches for it, his calloused fingertips brushing against hers, sending an electric current down her spine and they both freeze. Eyes flickering down to where their skin meets before looking at each other, eyes dark and focused.

 

Her mouth feels dry and her palms clammy, and suddenly all Carol can think about are Daryl's lips and how she misses the feeling of them against her own.

 

Gathering whatever courage she has and throwing all caution and better judgment to the wind, she pulls the bottle away from him and puts it down on a small, rusty camping table behind her. Daryl's hand lingers almost comically in the air even as she takes a step towards him.

 

She stops when there are no more than a few inches of space between them, his knuckles grazing her stomach. The muscles there quiver at the fleeting touch. God, she misses him. Misses him in every possible way and right now, it's drawing her into his arms – no matter how wrong she knows it is.

 

It won't fix anything, will only fracture it all further. Everything they've tried so hard to keep together.

 

But here she is, curling her hand around his neck and feeling his pulse thrumming against her palm. Whispering his name into the night, feeling the dampness of her own breath between them.

 

Daryl is tense against her, his eyes dark with desire. Knowing that he still feels that for her only drives Carol further into his space, her blood buzzing in her veins. She can hear the thrum of her pulse – just as rapid as his.

 

But there's restraint in his expression and posture as well. He doesn't move closer, doesn't touch her. _Carol,_ he chokes instead, his voice rough as gravel, so low she can barely hear it but it sends a shiver down her spine anyway. Her fingers tighten around his neck, pulling him forward just a little.

 

(she waits for his rejection. for him to pull away and tell her he doesn't want her anymore. he left, after all. he's gone.)

 

His lips are just a mere inch away from hers, the tip of his nose nudging hers and she can see his chest heaving with each breath. Waits. Lingers.

 

Until finally, he moves. Slowly, almost shyly, he leans in until their lips touch. Just barely. A fleeting brush. It's hesitant and unsure, so delicate. Whisper soft. Her eyes flutter shut and she sighs, her thumb ghosting over the soft skin behind his ear, forehead resting against his. Her body slack.

 

It's not a kiss. Far from it. Something different, something that makes her heart ache and her skin tingle and tears prickle in her eyes. She draws in a shuddering breath, her free hand sliding between them, resting her palm against his chest. Warm and solid – familiar. His heart thuds beneath her touch, a soothing rhythm she knows too well.

 

When he pulls away, a whimper escapes her and she curls her fingers into his shirt for a brief second. Trying to keep him close although he's already gone. But she realizes her mistake, lets go of him, her hands falling limply to her sides.

 

Her eyes open, and there he stands. Still so close, his face contorted with pain.

 

_Carol,_ he whispers, shaking his head ever so slightly.

 

It's such a small expression but it voices everything neither of them can say.

 

_I can't._

 

_We shouldn't._

 

_This is wrong._

 

_I wish._

 

_I wish._

 

_If only..._

 

Carol blinks away her tears, standing here amongst the debris of everything they used to have. Everything that used to be gold and bright and beautiful. It used to make her feel warm. Now, she feels the dreadful cold seeping into the marrow of her bones.

 

_I should go,_ she breathes hoarsely, but her body betrays her. Is glued to the spot and she can't move.

 

Daryl murmurs in response. A weak agreement to something they both know is the only reasonable decision to make right now.

 

But she can't.

 

And neither can he.

 

_I can't,_ she confesses, her voice breaking apart like thin glass. _I can't._

 

In a heartbeat, Daryl is right in front of her, his hands cradling her face. Warm and calloused and so familiar. She barely has time to gasp in surprise before he claims her lips in a bruising kiss. Filled with a year's worth of longing, it's demanding and deep, his tongue tracing her bottom lip. She opens up willingly and with a desperate moan.

 

Her hands find his shoulders, clutching at him and pulling him closer until his chest is flush with her own, the weight of him comforting and reassuring and thrilling all at once. When one of his hands slides into her hair, sifting through the growing curls, her knees buckle. He doesn't miss it, has never missed a single thing. He slides his thigh between her own, taking a bold step forward until Carol feels the wall of the house pressing into her back.

 

Daryl's hands find her waist, fingers digging into her flesh as he pulls her against him, and she can feel him hard against her lower abdomen. Her nerves flutter and her breath hitches in her throat as her mind clouds, unable to focus on anything but him.

 

She should push him away but instead she curls her hands around his neck and pulls him impossibly closer. She should tell him to stop but instead she lets him bury his face in the crook of her neck and nibble and suck at her tender skin. She should be reasonable but how can she be when she finally has him in her arms again, can finally pretend that nothing ever changed?

 

She's trapped between wanting to move on and for things to go back to the way they were, and right here, right now, they're trapped in that place in between that can only cause more pain.

 

Pain, however, is the last thing she feels right now. She relishes in the warmth of Daryl’s breath against her throat, the way his hands stroke up her ribcage, thumbs just barely grazing the underside of her breasts before wandering down again, over the swell of her hips and to her thighs. She grinds herself down against him, the hard length of him trapped between their frantic bodies and there's no question where this is going.

 

It doesn't matter how reasonable they tried to be. It doesn't matter why he left.

 

He's here now and he wants her just as badly as she wants him.

 

Before either of them can change their minds, Carol reaches between them and unbuckles his belt, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet of the night. Daryl doesn't try to push her away. He's just as eager, one hand grabbing underneath her thigh and hiking it up over his hip.

 

He's pressing against her perfectly now, and for a few seconds Carol's fingers hover over the button of his jeans – too caught up in how good he feels against her and how much she missed his ragged breaths against her skin.

 

It's a brief moment of respite before she pulls herself back together, making quick work of his button and zipper and pushing her hand into his pants. He's hard and throbbing when she curls her fingers around the base of him, pulling him free and stroking him at a fast pace and with enough pressure to make him groan.

 

(the vibrations of it make her feel as if they're one already as they travel through the layers of her skin all the way down to her core.)

 

Daryl grunts against her shoulder, muffling a curse there. It sends a jolt of electricity through her veins that she can't contain, arching her back and pushing herself into him. _Please,_ she moans, afraid of saying even that single word and breaking the spell.

 

It only spurs Daryl on, and a second later his hand skims up the inside of her thigh, his palm cupping her core, grinding against the damp cotton.

 

_Fuck,_ he hisses, hips thrusting into her palm with each stroke. His fingers slide under the fabric, gliding over her sensitive skin and Carol can barely bite back a moan, remembering faintly where they are. When two of his fingers slide into her though, she can't hold back, throwing her head back until it hits the wall.

 

_Shh,_ Daryl breathes, his lips finding hers again and the way he kisses her is sinful – it feels wrong and daring in a way it never has before, and while a dull ache throbs just beneath the surface, Carol is willing to take the plunge.

 

Just this once.

 

Just one more time.

 

He doesn't seem to have the mind to thrust his fingers into her with anything resembling a rhythm. Just pushes them in, grinding his heel against her, the friction unbearable and she can't wait. Can't risk this going on long enough for him to come to his senses.

 

Drawing her hand away from his erection, she clutches his shoulder for leverage. At the loss of her touch, Daryl groans against her lips, hips chasing her. But he catches on quickly when she hoists herself up, and he pulls his fingers from within her core to grasp her thighs and lift her up.

 

His fingers leave a wet streak on her thigh, but she doesn't care. Locks her legs around his hips instead and grinds herself against him, feeling him hard and throbbing right where he needs to be. He parts the kiss then, pressing his forehead against hers. Eyes dark and hazy.

 

There's an unspoken question in his gaze, one that plagues her own mind. Whether or not he's been with someone else since he left. She hasn't. Hadn't even considered seeing anyone else. Not yet. One day, maybe. But she's still miles away from that.

 

Softly, barely noticeably, she shakes her head.

 

Daryl doesn't reply. Doesn't nod or shake his head or say anything but she trusts him all the same. Curls her fingers around the soft strands of his hair – longer now than they used to be – and tugs slightly, enough to spur him on.

 

His hand sneaks between them, pulling her panties to the side in a rough move and she can hear the sound of the fabric protesting. He could tear them right off now and she wouldn't give a damn.

 

One of his hands brazes on the wall next to her head, the other curls around the length of him. She can feel him pressing himself against her, but he doesn't move to push in. She almost expects him to ask permission. He's always been so sweet. Considerate. Shy. But he doesn't say anything now. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of her neck – almost like he's ashamed.

 

Unable to wait any longer, and already feeling the fire that drove them here beginning to turn to embers, Carol tilts her hips up, just enough for him to barely slip inside.

 

It's all the prompting he needed.

 

In one smooth, gliding stroke he's buried to the hilt, knocking the breath out of her lungs in a silent cry. It's been so long and her body struggles to adjust, and yet it's familiar in a way she'll never forget. In this moment, when he's completely still and pressing his lips to her bare shoulder, she wishes this was different. That she could peel his clothes from his body and feel the warmth of his skin against her own. That it could be slow and gentle and _more_.

 

More than just this.

 

But it is what it is.

 

And when he starts to move, pulling back just an inch or two before pushing back into her, she loses herself in it. With every deep, hard thrust, she tilts her hips to meet him, sucking him back inside, unwilling to be separated from him for too long.

 

Their breathing turns labored, echoing off the silent, empty porch, mingling with the sound of the crickets and the rustling of the leafs.

 

The stretch of him, deep and warm and hard, is almost too much to bear after all this time. Carol's eyes fall closed. Almost frantically, she claws at his shoulders, holding herself up as he pushes her into the wall over and over, the wooden planks chafing against her exposed skin. Her dress is bunched around her hips, Daryl's hand clutching her hip, fingertips digging deep and she can feel the sting of his blunt nails.

 

Tears prickle in her eyes, too many sensations for her to endure and she whimpers, breathing shallowly. Daryl picks up on that, mouthing kisses along her neck that are soothing – a stark contrast to the snap of his hips as he drives himself into her hard. She wants to feel his lips and hands everywhere, wants to fall apart under his touch, wants to curl into him and fall asleep knowing he'll still be there in the morning.

 

But he won't be.

 

And this won't last much longer. She can tell. She knows the way his breathing grows more and more ragged and those breathy little sounds that escape him. She remembers the way he drives himself deep just before the end, barely pulling out. Knows the way he clutches at her and holds her close.

 

She also knows he won't last once she falls over the edge and she's _so_ close. The coil in her core tight and ready to snap – she's overstimulated and riled up in a way she's never been before and the stretch of him alone is enough to send her flying. But he's also grinding against her in the most maddening way, and she has half a mind to pull him into a forceful kiss when she feels the coil snap. Silencing her cry against his lips, she clenches around him, feels her muscles contract and white heat shooting through her limbs.

 

She trembles in his arms as he holds her up. Driving himself into her with even more force now, enough for the sound of their skin slapping against each other to fill the silence and then it's over and he groans into the kiss, presses himself deep. The warmth of his release fills her as he throbs and pulses, growing weak against her.

 

It's no longer a kiss they share. They're panting into each other's mouths, the taste of beer and wine mingling.

 

The reality of what they've done settles quickly, a heavy weight in her guts and with every throb of Daryl inside of her and every rush that jolts through her own veins, her heart aches more. But she tries to push it away.

 

And so does Daryl.

 

His grip on her hips eases, his thumbs drawing circles into her skin. He's trembling, barely holding up his own weight, pushing her weakly against the wall. His head drops until his forehead is pressed against her collarbone, and when he presses a soft kiss there, Carol nearly comes undone.

 

Her eyes fall closed and she rests her cheek against the crown of his head. Softly, she draws her fingertips up and down his back, soothingly. Breathes in the scent of him that has longed faded from the home they once shared.

 

She used to love and cherish these moments so much. Wrapped up in each other, sated and tired in the best way. Used to let him tuck her into his side and fall asleep right there in his arms. Used to listen to the sweet nothings he sometimes whispered into the crook of her neck when he was overwhelmed by it all.

 

None of that is an option now. They need to move before someone comes looking for them, they need to move because they can't stay like this. Not anymore.

 

But she can't. It hurts just to think about it and her greedy heart keeps asking for more. Just one more minute.

 

_I miss you,_ she hears herself whispering, still breathless, voice thick with tears. _I miss you so much._

 

Daryl makes a weak sound she's never heard from him before. So much pain seeps from it and from the way he curls his arms around her and holds her close – like he never wants to let go, either. It makes her wonder even more why he walked away from everything they had in the first place.

 

Instead of saying anything, he presses another kiss to her skin, even softer than before. He lingers, his breath warm and damp.

 

She can taste the salt of her tears as she ghosts her lips over his temple. _Come back home._ Her voice is barely recognizable, a shadow of what it used to be. Tenderly, she sifts her fingers through his hair, hears him hum and feels the tremor of a sob in his body. _Please._

 

Only once has she asked this of him. The day after he moved out of their house. Then, he'd told her that he couldn't come back without ever giving her a reason why. Now, he cries into her shoulder, his knees giving out beneath him. Slowly, he lowers them both to the ground, gathering her in his lap, and Carol feels her heart shattering as he tries to hold them both together.

 

_'m sorry,_ he murmurs, kissing her shoulder, her pulse point, behind her ear. _'m so sorry._ His lips find hers, his cheeks as wet with tears as her own. The tip of his nose nudges hers, his fingers trembling as he cradles her cheek. _'m sorry._

 

She wants to forgive him so badly, but she can hear in his voice that he needs to forgive himself too. And she can't do that for him. Pressing her forehead against his, she allows them this moment. Lets it pass until their tears have stopped.

 

The silence becomes overwhelming again. A heavy veil that settles over them as he eventually helps her to her feet and tucks himself back into his pants. As she adjusts her own clothes, wincing at the wetness between her thighs.

 

They're such fools.

 

In the aftermath, they stand there on the weathered porch in the silver moonlight. Waiting. Almost as if it's a reflex, he reaches out, tucks a curl of her hair behind her ear and she's weak, leans into his touch. Craves more.

 

_Come home with me?_ she whispers, swearing to herself that this will be the last time she asks him this. Offering him one last chance to fix this. To fix _them_. To make things right.

 

The moon reflects in his eyes as she waits for his answer.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've wanted to write an angsty post-break up one shot for a while now. The problem was that I genuinely could not think of a reason why either of them would leave the other. I don't really see them breaking up or drifting apart after everything they went through.
> 
> I opted out of mentioning the reason for the break up here, but I do have a headcanon. You're all free to fill in the blanks yourselves, though. And you can decide if he goes home or not.


End file.
